horror in Libby’s expression and the shooing motions she kept making behind the doctor’s back that she didn’t want him to stay.
But he wasn’t about to budge. He couldn’t. Especially when the doctor parted the gown revealing Libby’s stomach. It did look as if she’d swallowed a ball—a soccer ball, at least. He watched fascinated as the doctor spread lubricant on the lower curve of that round firm mound before pressing gently against it with a stethoscope.
She’d kill him, Libby decided, squirming as much from Del’s intent gaze as the cold metal feel of the stethoscope crawling along her skin. He knew—he had to know—that she hadn’t planned on him coming in during the physical exam, but rather much later, when Dr. Kanuse was finished. She felt as helpless and exposed as a beached whale.
Strange noises emerged from the amplifier attached to the scope.
“That’s her stomach growling,” the doctor explained.
“Sounds like a pack of lions quarreling over a piece of meat,” was Del’s observation.
Libby shut her eyes. Could she be any more embarrassed? The growling grew fiercer as the stethoscope rolled over her lower belly toward her sheetdraped—thank goodness!—bikini line. Libby flinched.
“Did I hurt you?” the doctor asked.
“She’s ticklish there,” Del said before she could reply.
Libby flushed at the unbidden memory of him drawing a teasing finger across that sensitive spot. Go away, she mouthed desperately in his direction, but he wasn’t looking at her face. His absorbed stare was fastened on the stethoscope as the doctor patiently searched for the baby’s heartbeat. Libby had just decidedto repeat the demand aloud when a squishy, rhythmic beating echoed into the room.
“That’s it,” the doctor said in satisfaction.
Wonder filled Libby’s heart as it always did when she heard the baby’s heartbeat. Involuntarily, she glanced at Del. For a fleeting moment the same awe she felt was evident in his startled eyes.
She smiled. “My son,” she said softly.
At her words, his usual unreadable expression masked his face again. “Daughter,” he corrected. Then his brows drew together. “Isn’t it rather rapid?”
“Perfectly normal,” the doctor said as the baby rolled over and growling sounds filled the room again. Briskly she removed the stethoscope and handed Libby a towelette to wipe off the lubricant. Walking over to the sink, the doctor washed her hands, saying over her shoulder. “Keep taking your vitamins, Libby. Walk every day. Sexual intercourse is fine at this point…”
Del raised a brow. Libby flushed.
“Is your dizziness easing up?” the doctor asked, wiping her hands on a paper towel.
Libby nodded.
“Good. Let me know if you start getting headaches.” The doctor picked up her chart and glanced over it. “The baby is doing just great. However, we still need to work on your weight.”
“What’s wrong with her weight?” Del asked sharply.
The doctor smiled reassuringly. “She’s a bit underweight for her third trimester. Nothing much to worry about, but I want her to gain a few more pounds…”
Del glared in Libby’s direction, but fearing what hemight say, she pretended not to notice as she carefully wiped off the lubricant. The last thing she wanted was Del to become involved.
“Also,” the doctor continued, “I want her to rest more. Studies have found that standing on her feet all day—as Libby does in her job—increases a woman’s risk of having a premature baby.”
“It sounds as if you think she should quit working,” Del said.
The doctor met his gaze. “It wouldn’t hurt if she could quit working, but she tells me that isn’t possible.”
“It is possible, if it will help the baby,” Del stated unequivocally. “Isn’t it, Libby?”
Angry at his assumption, she tossed the towelette into the trash and wrapped the gown more firmly around her. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said repressively.
The doctor
But he wasn’t about to budge. He couldn’t. Especially when the doctor parted the gown revealing Libby’s stomach. It did look as if she’d swallowed a ball—a soccer ball, at least. He watched fascinated as the doctor spread lubricant on the lower curve of that round firm mound before pressing gently against it with a stethoscope.
She’d kill him, Libby decided, squirming as much from Del’s intent gaze as the cold metal feel of the stethoscope crawling along her skin. He knew—he had to know—that she hadn’t planned on him coming in during the physical exam, but rather much later, when Dr. Kanuse was finished. She felt as helpless and exposed as a beached whale.
Strange noises emerged from the amplifier attached to the scope.
“That’s her stomach growling,” the doctor explained.
“Sounds like a pack of lions quarreling over a piece of meat,” was Del’s observation.
Libby shut her eyes. Could she be any more embarrassed? The growling grew fiercer as the stethoscope rolled over her lower belly toward her sheetdraped—thank goodness!—bikini line. Libby flinched.
“Did I hurt you?” the doctor asked.
“She’s ticklish there,” Del said before she could reply.
Libby flushed at the unbidden memory of him drawing a teasing finger across that sensitive spot. Go away, she mouthed desperately in his direction, but he wasn’t looking at her face. His absorbed stare was fastened on the stethoscope as the doctor patiently searched for the baby’s heartbeat. Libby had just decidedto repeat the demand aloud when a squishy, rhythmic beating echoed into the room.
“That’s it,” the doctor said in satisfaction.
Wonder filled Libby’s heart as it always did when she heard the baby’s heartbeat. Involuntarily, she glanced at Del. For a fleeting moment the same awe she felt was evident in his startled eyes.
She smiled. “My son,” she said softly.
At her words, his usual unreadable expression masked his face again. “Daughter,” he corrected. Then his brows drew together. “Isn’t it rather rapid?”
“Perfectly normal,” the doctor said as the baby rolled over and growling sounds filled the room again. Briskly she removed the stethoscope and handed Libby a towelette to wipe off the lubricant. Walking over to the sink, the doctor washed her hands, saying over her shoulder. “Keep taking your vitamins, Libby. Walk every day. Sexual intercourse is fine at this point…”
Del raised a brow. Libby flushed.
“Is your dizziness easing up?” the doctor asked, wiping her hands on a paper towel.
Libby nodded.
“Good. Let me know if you start getting headaches.” The doctor picked up her chart and glanced over it. “The baby is doing just great. However, we still need to work on your weight.”
“What’s wrong with her weight?” Del asked sharply.
The doctor smiled reassuringly. “She’s a bit underweight for her third trimester. Nothing much to worry about, but I want her to gain a few more pounds…”
Del glared in Libby’s direction, but fearing what hemight say, she pretended not to notice as she carefully wiped off the lubricant. The last thing she wanted was Del to become involved.
“Also,” the doctor continued, “I want her to rest more. Studies have found that standing on her feet all day—as Libby does in her job—increases a woman’s risk of having a premature baby.”
“It sounds as if you think she should quit working,” Del said.
The doctor met his gaze. “It wouldn’t hurt if she could quit working, but she tells me that isn’t possible.”
“It is possible, if it will help the baby,” Del stated unequivocally. “Isn’t it, Libby?”
Angry at his assumption, she tossed the towelette into the trash and wrapped the gown more firmly around her. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said repressively.
The doctor
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